


Betting on the Infield

by jamiesommers



Series: Vintage Joshifer Series [1]
Category: Hunger Games (2012) RPF, Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Josh Hutcherson - Fandom, Joshifer - Fandom, Real Person Fiction, jennifer lawrence - Fandom
Genre: F/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1851103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamiesommers/pseuds/jamiesommers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Louisville, KY 1903 -<br/>Jennifer Lawrence had been raised around horses her entire life, but propriety and her mother kept her from working with them. Josh Hutcherson had a sketchy past and when he was given the opportunity to work for a stable in preparation for the Kentucky Derby, he jumped at the chance. When the pair cross paths on the infield and form an instant, yet forbidden bond they choose to risk everything in order to keep their nightly meetings a secret, but will Josh’s past come back to haunt him and turn Jennifer away? And will Jennifer’s present put a crashing halt on their budding relationship?</p><p>Join Josh and Jen as they each struggle with the injustices that come with being from two different classes, face family tragedies and make the greatest wager of their lives when they bet their hearts on the infield.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let's Make a Deal

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to S for being such a wonderful friend and my beta to boot. To my newest friend M Thank you for doing an emergency beta for me and talking through some issues. You are amazeballs baby girl. And to L for helping me to understand the world of horses.

**Betting on the Infield**

**By: Jamie Sommers**

**Betting on the Infield**

**Part One: Let’s Make a Deal**

 

**Louisville, Kentucky – 1903**

The chill in the air was to be expected for the last week of March in Louisville, Kentucky. The occasional gust of cold wind whipping against the skin of Jennifer's exposed neck and face left her sorry she had chosen to keep her hair pinned atop her head and her coat at home. Her fingers traveled up the back of her hair, feeling each tight ringlet firmly held in place, and wished she could pull them out and allow her blond tresses to flow free.

 

Where most women had to rely upon the aid of hot metal tongs to give their hair curl, Jennifer Lawrence had been blessed with natural golden waves. She had been blessed with many physical attributes that women young and old, would and did, pay dearly to achieve. Since she was a teen, men had taken notice of her hour glass figure. The round of her hips, the way her waist dipped in and her voluptuous breasts that always seemed to be standing at attention had been the object of many a suitor's eye. A corset was far from needed, but it was something her mother, Karen, insisted upon. Jennifer was grateful that she didn't have to strap on a fifteen pound metal bustle like her mother did in her younger days; but still, the tight corset was much to be desired. She longed for a day in which she could turn her nose up to the constricting piece of coutille, bone and stays for it represented all the restrictions life presented her merely for being born female.

 

The mating call of male crickets sang through the night, luring their female counterparts in. The sound of a horse's whinny and another gust of wind joined in on the boisterous insects’ melody creating a perfect overture for the concert Churchill Downs would soon be hosting. There was a hint of hay, dust, peppermint, manure and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on lingering in the air. Though Jennifer had been a good distance away from the stables of Churchill Downs where the horses were housed, she knew that the aroma was her vivid imagination. She had called upon that same imagination while spending the past few months in London, but now...being so close to the track...to the infield, the distinctive fragrance of her father's stables became pronounced and all too real.

 

With her sights focused on the buttons of her flat heeled, worn leather boots, she thanked her lucky stars that she had chosen to change into the tailor-made tweed suit her father had given her a few years before. Though it was a little small for her now, it was perfect for her visit to the track. Had even the slightest hint of soil upon her everyday clothing been detected, Jennifer was sure to be brought to task for venturing into an area dominated by men, on her own. Her father understood her desire to be around the horses, the unsatisfied need to learn how to ride, but her mother had always put a damper on it, claiming that a lady of good breeding had no need to sit with legs spread on top of such a large and dangerous animal. When her father brought up the idea of a side saddle, Jennifer's mother quickly quashed it by saying she had no time to learn such thing. Piano, flute, proper posture and how to entertain were absolute musts for a lady and kept Jennifer’s days full. She had always found that to be an odd fact about her life. She had been raised around horses, yet never sat atop one.

 

“But she married for wealth, not for love, he cried,” the sound of a man's off tune ballad had Jennifer’s head snapping up. “Though she lives in a mansion grand. She's only a bird in a gilded cage. A beautiful sight to see.” Jennifer held back a giggle at the sound of his voice cracking and changing keys midway through chorus, “You may think she's happy and free from care. She's not, though she seems to be.” The end of his song struck a little too close to home, but Jennifer chose to ignore the meaning in the lyrics, knowing that the man had not intended on striking a nerve with her, and made her way quietly through the fence that led to the flat grassy area in the center of the track known as the infield.

 

“This area is supposed to be closed off this time of night,” she smiled when the young man jumped backwards and at the startled expression on his handsome face.

 

Josh Hutcherson could have sworn he was the only one enjoying the crisp night air and moonlight. He had been sneaking onto the infield for weeks now and had never crossed anyone's path, so the sound of a female voice coming from behind him instantly had him worried. “I...uh...” he took measure of the young woman, her attire, and wondered momentarily if she was one of the well to do that had come into town early for the Derby, or a laborer like himself. She was clad in women's work-wear though the collar of her shirtwaist was far from high necked, barely covering an inch of her long ivory throat highlighted with a path of golden brown beauty marks. His decision that she was a laborer helped to calm the frayed nerves she had unraveled by sneaking up on him. “I could say the same to you,” Josh took a few steps towards the woman and noticed the intricacies of her up-do, a complete contradiction to her attire.

 

“Yes,” she graced him with a small smile. “I suppose you could. Or we could both agree that we were never here and save us both some trouble.” The glint in her bright blue eyes when she smiled waged war with the rays of moonlight streaming down around them and spelled trouble. Josh could feel his heart hammering in his chest as she stuck her hand out and asked, “What do you say? Is it a deal?”

 

He looked upon her offering, the carefully shaped oval of her nails, and the sleeves that were two inches too short, still a bit apprehensive as to whether or not he should be talking so freely with her, but the playfulness in her voice and insistence in her eyes had him reaching out his hand towards hers. “Deal.”

 

Jennifer took his calloused hand in hers, giving it a firm pump, “I'm Jennifer. My friends call me Jen.” No one called her Jen, but she had always liked the nickname, thought it suited her, but that was another thing that her mother had been against claiming it sounded too masculine and familiar for a proper lady.

 

“J...” the silkiness of her hand encompassed the rough skin on his palm, and he once again began questioning whether or not she was a blue blood for he was certain that a hand smooth as spun silk could have never worked a day in its life. “J...Joshua. Josh,” he stammered incoherently.

 

“Nice to meet you, J...J...Joshua,” there was no false lilt in her voice like other women feigned to sound as though they were highfaluting. In fact her voice was steady and strong with just enough femininity to set a man's mind to wondering.

 

“It's just Jush...” he gave his head a shake. “Josh.”

 

“Josh,” her eyes glanced up at the flat woolen cap sitting on his head like it had been created especially for him and landed on the coppery flecks of his hazel eyes. “Josh?”

 

He swallowed the lump that had instantly formed in the base of his throat when her lashes flitted flirtatiously. “Jen,” he tested out his voice with the sound of her name.

 

“I don't suppose I might have my hand back?”

 

“Oh...Oh yeah,” he quickly released it from his grip. “Sorry.”

 

“No need to be sorry,” she elbowed up to the track's rail and stared down the length of it. “Tell me Josh, what brings you out here so late on this fine evening?”

 

He toed at the grass that was unnaturally green for this time of year and took up a position similar to hers against the rail. “Been coming out here for a few weeks now. Just trying to get a feel for the place. And you?”

 

“This is one of my favorite spots in the whole world,” she said it as though she meant it.

 

“It's great isn't it?” Josh stared down the long stretch of track laid out before them. “Every night I get a new angle on the track...try to memorize it for the next day's run.”

 

“Oh, so you're a jockey then?” She wondered aloud.

 

“No,” he let out a slight chuckle. “Too tall,” he lifted the corner of his mouth in a telling smirk. “That's about the only thing in my life that I've ever been too tall for.”

 

“Hmmm,” she gave his height a once over, taking notice that he was about an inch or two shorter than her. “I suppose you are a bit on the short side compared to most men.”

 

“Uh...don't beat around the bush,” Josh chuckled and Jennifer's full bodied laugh joined in.

 

“You'll have to excuse me. My mother has been telling me since birth that I lack the ability to bullshit.” She quickly turned towards him and said, “Not that she would ever use that term, but you understand my meaning, don't you?”

 

“Yes,” he reckoned her outgoing nature could put some men off, but he found it to be quite fascinating.

 

“I suppose I should apologize for my use of such language, but the way I figure, since we were never here...” she gave her left shoulder a slight shrug and grinned mischievously over it in Josh’s direction, “I never used the word, shit.”

 

Josh let out a loud burst of laughter. “Don't ever apologize for being yourself. I find your colorful use of the English language to be very...intriguing.”

 

“Yep,” she turned, leaned her back against the wooden rails, rested her elbows on the edge of the fence and unwittingly caused her breasts to jut out. “That describes me to a tee,” she crossed one foot over the other digging the toe of her boot into the ground. “Intriguing...colorful...hell,” she gave him a cheeky grin, “I'd even go as far as to say, beguiling.”

 

The cherub like smile she aimed in his direction had him speculating about her again. “Beguiling?” He scanned her from the tips of her boots to the top of her strategically placed curls. Everything about her was a mystery. Worn boots made of fine quality leather, a tweed work suit that had been too small had him thinking it could possibly be a hand me down, but the hand stitching and intricate touches of lace at the all too short collar and sleeves spoke of money. The thing that had him at a total loss was that her hair was as tight as her tongue was loose. “Definitely beguiling,” he agreed, still unsure of what to make of her.

 

“Hmm,” Jen stood across from Josh with her hands on her hips and sized him up. “And you?” She scratched absently at her chin trying to make a quick judge of character. “Since you really haven't said much, other than commenting on _all_ of my incomparable characteristic traits, I'd have to say you're...” she narrowed her eyes in on him and came to only one conclusion. “I'm going to need a little more time and a _lot_ more information before deciding whether or not I like you.”

 

“Well…I never said I liked you,” Josh teased and they both shared a smile.

 

“Now _that_ was quite telling.” So far, she had found Josh quite good natured.

 

“Oh, and what did it tell you?”

 

“It told me that I might actually decide to like you, J...J...Joshua.” Walking casually towards the center of the infield Jen took a second on whether or not it would be wise to invite him to join her. Throwing caution to the wind and going on instinct she called out over her shoulder, “Are you coming?”

 

Though he was uncertain as to why he chose to follow her, he could only reason that he was curious about the girl that had shown up on the grassy field like she had stepped right out of his dreams that looked like an angel and spoke like the devil. In the few minutes they had spent together she had complimented him, insulted him, gotten him to participate in a deception as to their being on the infield, and had his youthful mind traveling into dangerous territory wondering where the path of golden marks on her neck led. “Where are we going?”

 

“Out here,” she pointed towards the middle of the grassy flat. “You can never see the track from here once the festivities start.” Once they had reached their destination she stood with her face to the sky and her arms thrown open wide. “I love it here. Especially in the morning, just as the sun comes up,” her gaze landed towards the east. “There's nothing like the sun rising over the track,” Jen got lost in the memory of that last sunrise she had seen from her hiding place in the seats. “A lone horse and rider galloping across the dirt leaving a trail of dust in his wake. The vivid hues of delicate rose and muted orange mixed together creating a new color each and every day...the fog hovering over the infield like a fluffy white blanket.” She turned to face him head on. “Have you ever seen it?”

 

“No,” but now he wanted to more than ever.

 

“It's breathtaking.” She dropped down to the grass and spread her tweed skirt out, making sure to cover her ankles. “In all the years that I've been coming here, I've only braved staying long enough to watch the sunrise five times, but I remember each and every one of them like it happened only moments ago.”

 

“I can tell,” he looked down upon her, convinced that she was a figment of his imagination, but just in case she was real, he took a seat on the grass deemed appropriately far enough away from her and yearned to find out as much as he could. “You've been coming here for years?”

 

“Yes,” her chin rested just above her shoulder as she answered him.

 

“You're a local?” He asked.

 

“Mmmm hmmm,” Jen nodded and rested back on the palms of her hands. “I was raised only a few miles away from here. Grew up around horses...racing...” Just thinking about the upcoming Derby had her releasing a satisfied burst of air. “It's such an exciting world to be a part of. Ladies in their fancy dresses, wearing hats with more tiers than a wedding cake, and women wearing work suits and flat heeled boots… their children running loose and galloping around on sticks as though they were in the saddle. Men in their finest attire, smoking cigars dipped in bourbon mixing with blue color workers for one day of fun and festivities.” She could picture it all happening around her. “The stands have a great view, but they’re not nearly as jovial as the infield on Derby day.” Hugging her arms to herself as a gust of wind blew she said, “This is the only time of year you’ll see that, you know and this,” she pointed downward towards the grass, “is the only place you’ll see it.”

 

“See what?” Completely enthralled with her vivid descriptions Josh studied the gleam in her eyes and lost himself in her explanation.

 

“Why, propriety thrown to the wind…within reason of course.” Being able to let herself go like so many of the other women on race day had been a fantasy of Jen’s since she was a young girl. “It’s glorious, Josh. For one day a man that owns acres of land drinks right alongside of one that tends to his neighbor’s land.” She titled her head towards him as though she had a secret to share, “You won’t really see employers mixing with their own hired hands, but they may share a quiet nod across the grassy knoll in recognition.”

 

Josh tried to picture his new boss doing such a thing and thought that the man might actually share a drink with him if the opportunity presented itself. He learned from early on in his employment that his boss was unique. A kind gentleman that always took time to talk to the stable hands and asked after their well-being. “That would be something to see.”

 

“Oh, and you will!” She got to her knees and fanned her arms out. “This entire place will be full of people from different classes, and no one will care if they’re wearing fifty dollar shoes shipped in from Paris or going barefoot. Oh,” her hands clasped together and her spirit deflated as she sunk back into her sitting position. “What I wouldn’t give to be in the mix of things down here.”

 

“Don’t you ever come out here during the races?”

 

“No,” she stared at a brown spot of grass with a little pout. “My family sits in the stands.” Her features grew animated again. “But people mix there too. Just not to this extent,” she motioned towards their surroundings. With a few seconds lull in conversation Jennifer realized she had been rambling a terrible habit her mother wished she would break. “Will you listen to me? Blabbing like crazy about a silly little topic like seating for the Derby when you had asked me a question.” She recalled that he had asked her something, but forgot what it entailed. “What was it again?”

 

Josh was impressed with her lack of embarrassment at getting carried away and repeated himself, “I asked if you were a local?”

 

“Oh, that’s right.” She had to stop and think for a second, “I did answer that didn’t I?”

 

“Yeah,” he let out a chuckle. “You most certainly did.”

 

“Good,” she was glad she hadn’t ignored his inquiry then placed one herself. “How about you? Where are you from? Because I know you're not from Louisville,” but she could sense a bit of a twang to his voice and thought he may have been from Kentucky or one of its surrounding areas.

 

“Actually,” he scratched nervously under his woolen cap as he always did when someone asked about his past. “I was born just outside of Union County. Spent the first nine years of my life there.” He would have stayed longer had fate not intervened, but that was a part of his life he hadn't shared with anyone.

 

“Ooh, go on.” Curious about the man that found her beguiling she decided to stick her nose in his business. “The first nine years? Where did you go afterward? Someplace glamorous? Dangerous?” Jen's lashes dipped downward as she noticed the way her new friend began to squirm against the grass.

 

“Definitely not glamorous.” Josh should have been offended by her prying, but there was something about her that drew him in like a moth to a flame. “Maybe a little dangerous,” he played along.

 

Jen sat straight up, her curiosity piqued even more than it should’ve been considering she was talking to a complete stranger, but for some odd reason she felt as though they had already built a friendship. “Do tell, Josh. Did you have great adventures?”

 

He thought of the nights he had spent on the street begging for scraps of food, the authorities he ran from on occasion, and the perils he had encountered when living in the bigger cities. “They were adventures, but I wouldn't call them great,” his voice held a touch of sorrow.

 

“Oh,” he had obviously been uncomfortable when answering her questions, and she immediately regretted the intrusion on his life. “I'd apologize for being so rude, but you said you found my colorfulness intriguing, so...” she gave her shoulders a little shrug, looking all too innocent, and was thankful her attempt at humor relieved the tension in his posture. “What do you say we table talk of your not so great adventures, and go back to this whole jockey business?” Again she leaned towards him and said under her breath, “In case you’re wondering, I’m changing the topic so I can pretend to be polite.” The sound of his throaty laughter caused a fluttering in her belly and her chilled palms to break out in a sweat. “Did you _want_ to be a jockey?”

 

“Yes,” he gave his head a nod. “When I was younger, I was ideal. Skinny...short...but youth and a bad temper worked against me.”

 

She had only been in his presence for a short period of time, but she could already tell that he was exaggerating when he claimed to have a bad temper. “Would you tell me about it? About being a jockey?”

 

“Sure,” he left out the dark part of his early days riding horses, and concentrated on the highlights of his racing days, sharing with her the nerves he felt during his first race and being surrounded by so many pairs of watchful eyes. He told her about the horses he had rode and a few colorful memories of his time in the stables with some of the other jockeys, how they had taken him under their wing, and how heartbroken he was when he grew too tall to race. All the while Jennifer sat, living vicariously through Josh’s adventures, and looked as though she were sharing each of his joys and defeats right along with him. But it was when Josh told her about one of the rare moments of pride he experienced that he felt a tugging in his chest and a thrill shoot through him. Jennifer’s eyes lit up as she perched on her knees and then collapsed back against the grass when he animatedly told her about his first win, “Clarabelle and I came in first place and second was an entire horse behind me!”

  
  
“Heavens! That sounds amazing.” She pictured herself in a saddle, riding free around a track like Josh had done.

 

“It was.”

 

“Oh,” she sighed as she took to her seating position. “I wish I could have seen that.”

 

It came as a surprise to him when he said, “Me too.”

 

“I remember the first time I came to the track…” she said.

 

They shared stories of races they had seen, the rush of excitement when the sound of the bell went off, how much they loved the sound of the horse’s hooves pounding against the dirt track, and speculated on some of the competition that would be coming in from places like New York and Philadelphia. Jen spoke of the beauty of Louisville in the spring and how much she loved being raised there, and Josh told her about a few of the larger cities he had spent time in without divulging too much of his personal history. Laughter and conversation came with such ease neither one of them gave their instant familiarity with one another a second thought.

 

Trust had always been an issue for Josh, so it came as a shock to him when he found himself talking with Jennifer for so long that he lost track of time. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation with someone that lasted this long.”

 

“Me either,” her eyes locked with his for several long seconds as a dangerous intensity grew between them. Clearing her throat and looking off to the side, Jennifer quickly put an end to the moment and asked, “So what do you do now that you're too tall to jockey?”

 

“Um,” it took him a second to clear his thoughts before he told her of his current profession, “I work as a groom and an exercise rider.”

 

Regardless of her mother's attempt to keep Jennifer from the stables, over the years she had learned quite a bit about the industry, and had never heard of such a thing. “An exercise rider?”

 

“We prepare the horses for the track. Get them used to the length of it...the feel of it...” Josh picked a blade of grass and clamped it between his teeth out of habit. “I bring the horse out here each day and ride.”

 

“Isn't that what the jockey is for?”

 

“Too many horses, not enough jockeys,” Josh answered casually. “It would make sense to have a jockey do all the work, but that's not what they're getting paid for. They're paid to win the race, not train the horse for it. Don’t get me wrong, they ride the horse too, but not nearly as much as I do.”

 

“Hmmm.” The description he gave her made her wonder if this was common practice. “Does everyone have an exercise rider?”

 

“A lot of stables consider it part of a groom's job, but yeah...most do nowadays.”

 

She threw her hands up in the air, “And here I thought I knew everything there was to know about training horses,” leaning a little closer to him was quickly becoming a natural instinct. “Guess you taught me a lesson in humility here this evening, Josh.”

 

“Humility?”

 

“Never get too damn uppity about what you _think_ you know,” she gave her head one hard nod then bestowed a thankful grin upon him. “There's always someone in the world that knows more.”

 

He met her soft smile with one of his own and tipped the brim of his cap, “Happy to be of service.”

 

As much as Jennifer was enjoying her time with Josh, she knew being away from home for so long was tempting fate. Pulling out the timepiece tucked firmly in her bodice she noticed that she had been gone for almost four hours. “Oh no!”

 

“Something wrong?”

 

“Yes. I need to…” her clumsy attempts to get to her feet were hindered by her large skirt and constrictive bodice. “Damn these corsets! Damn them all to hell!”

 

Josh felt his cheeks flush at her casual mention of ladies undergarments. “Here,” he hopped easily up and held out his hands to her. “Let me help.”

 

“Ooh,” she glared at him. “You men have it so damn simple. No strict pieces of cloth with whale bone going through it to keep your waist trim and your back straight.” She slapped the palms of her hands in his and let him pull her to her feet. “Don't think I won't hold that against you,” she pushed a finger into his chest then dusted off the back of her skirt while racing towards her exit. “Thanks for the help,” she waved over her shoulder, “and the stories!”

 

“Hey,” taking up a slow jog behind her Josh called out, “will I see you again?”

 

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” she yelled back at him. “We were never here, remember?”

 

He stopped chasing after her and watched her heavy skirt billow to the side with each fall of her feet against the soft earth. Lifting the floppy wool cap from his head, Josh smacked it in the palm of his hand and scratched at the nape of his neck wondering aloud, “Geez, Josh. Were you dreaming?” He didn't know if he was or wasn't but he was determined to find out.

 

It didn't take long for Josh to get an answer to his question. Less than twenty-four hours later he saw Jen standing at the edge of the track looking from side to side in search of something, or some _one_ , he hoped. “This area is supposed to be closed off this time of night,” Josh said through a shy smile attempting to hide the rush of excitement the mere sight of Jennifer brought to him.

 

“You're here,” she ran the few steps stopping just short of him. “I wasn't sure if...” Jen gave her head a quick shake clearing her fuzzy brain of cobwebs. When she woke up that day memories of the night before felt as though they were only a fantasy she created to fill a void in her life, but now that Josh was standing in front of her… “I thought maybe I had been imagining you or...” She dropped her face in her hands. “Goodness, I sound like an imbecile.”

 

“No. Not at all.” Josh was relieved to hear her confess what he had spent the day thinking. “When you left last night I thought...I thought maybe I had dreamt you up or something.”

 

“It's just been so long since I've been here... When I was gone I used to conjure up the smell of my father's stables in my mind, and whenever I was in need of the comforts of home, I'd think of it. Last night when I was walking up to the track, I could have sworn I smelled it.” They both began walking towards the center of the infield without a break in conversation. “Even now I sense the faint aroma lingering in the air.”

 

“You may not be imagining things,” Josh said with a hint of embarrassment in his tone. “I had a busy day and didn't really have time to clean up as much as I would have liked to.” The truth was he had been in such a hurry to get to the track to see if she'd be there he had done a slapdash job of grooming himself.

 

Jen stopped short, and gave him a look of inquisition before leaning in and taking a little whiff of his shoulder. The familiar fragrance swiftly accosted her senses and caused her stomach to clench. “When I was gone, this is what I would think of,” she confessed behind closed lids. “Hay...horses...dust...dung...” she released a sigh.

 

“Sorry I smell like a stable.” He couldn't imagine the stench of horse manure to be very alluring to a woman.

 

“No,” she gripped at his arm then quickly dropped her hand, lowering her voice down at her over enthusiastic reaction. “No. I like it. It reminds me of home.” They strode slowly towards the center of the infield and took the same positions they had the night before. She was resting as comfortably as possible on the grass, and he sitting a few feet away. “I'm glad you came back tonight,” she said with her focus aimed at the constellations in the dark sky so she wouldn’t stare at him like she wanted. “At least now I know I'm not letting my imagination run wild.”

 

“Do that often?”

 

“Too often according to my mother,” Jen swept the hair she had chosen to wear down, off of her neck, gathering it over one shoulder.

 

“What do you imagine that your mother would consider wild?” He was curious as to what ran through the crevices of her mind.

 

“Oh...what it feels like to ride. Have the wind blowing through your hair,” she fantasized aloud. “Feel the thumping of a horse's hooves pound into the ground.” She lifted a shoulder up to her chin. With an unknowing coy lilt to her lips she asked, “I know you told me about racing last night, but...is riding as marvelous as it seems, Josh? The feel of a horse between your legs?”

 

“I thought you said you were raised around here...with horses?” His brow furrowed in question. He had assumed she had known how to ride when she said she was around horses her entire life. “Haven't you ever ridden before?”

 

“No,” she harrumphed. “My mother...”

 

Josh lifted a hand to silence her and silently damned the woman, a complete stranger to him, that denied Jen such pleasure. “Say no more. From the sound of it, your mother is big on propriety.”

 

“You don't know the half of it.” Jen gave her eyes a roll then tucked her chin in. Not wanting to ruin their time together with thoughts of her family she said, “I think you should change the subject like I did last night.”

 

Josh spoke through his chuckle, “Okay. So…uh… What do you make of the security around the infield? Kind of lacking don't you think?” They both laughed, Jen's ending on an airy sigh, and Josh could feel himself quickly losing his heart to her. He didn't really know any particulars about her, and almost feared asking her to divulge any personal information. “Jen?” He asked hesitantly. “You know I'm employed at...”

 

“Don't,” She held her hand up and stopped him from speaking before he ruined everything. The decision had been made as she was waiting for him. “Josh, let's not do that.”

 

“Do what?” He asked inquisitively.

 

“Oh, you know. That thing where you tell me where you work, then I tell you that I _don't_ work, and you suddenly feel that...ridiculous,” she spat out, “sense of responsibility to treat me with kid-gloves...”

 

“Yes, I can see how treating you with kindness would upset you,” he chuckled.

 

“Hush up,” she swatted at his upper arm and smiled at his joke. “Right now we're merely a boy and a girl that share the same interest in horses, and sneaking onto the infield.” She tilted her head in his direction and softly pleaded, “Can we keep it that way?”

 

He didn't have to think hard about her request as there were many factors in his life that he wanted to keep to himself. “There's just one problem with this whole scenario,” he rested on his elbows and stuck his feet out in front of him, tucking a blade of grass between his teeth. “You already know _what_ I do for a living.”

 

“And you know that I don't do anything for a living so we're even,” she grinned at him, taking notice of the motion of his square jaw as he kept his mouth busy with the piece of grass. “What do you say, J...J...Joshua?” She stuck her hand out like she had the night before asking, “Deal?”

 

There was no doubt in his mind that she would be considered off limits to him in the real world, but not there...not in that moment. Not on the flat piece of land in the middle of Churchill Downs. “Deal,” he shook her soft hand in his and gave it a little squeeze before letting go. “So, what _can_ we talk about?”

 

“I don’t know.” Pondering for a few seconds she suggested, “Tell me about something that made you happy today.”

 

“Hmmm,” he rested back on his elbows. “When I took Lemon Drop,” he lulled his head in her direction, “that's a horse I take care of. When I took her out for her walk this morning there was a butterfly on her back with its wings just flapping up and down.” He smiled at the mental image from earlier in the day. “I pranced Drop around, and that dang thing rode her like it had decided it was going to be a jockey this morning instead of a butterfly.” He could hear Jen's airy giggle to the side and continued filling her in on the little details of his days without revealing too much.

 

They had talked about nothing at all and everything under the sun for hours on end. Josh had reminded Jen of the time over and over again, but she didn't want to think about it. She knew they'd both be in terrible trouble if they were caught out there, but she risked the extra time with him, not wanting the night to end. On that second night Jen found out that he loved fish, catching and eating them, and he discovered that she hated eating and catching them. He found out that she was a whiz at marbles and had quite the collection, and he told her that he had never played the common child's game.

 

Unable to comprehend how a man could never have played something so basic, she asked with brows raised so high they almost disappeared into her hairline. “You've never played marbles?”

 

“Nope.” He recalled watching the group of boys at his school, gathered in a crowd shooting decorative round balls in a circle drawn into the dirt. “I've seen kids playing it though.”

 

“Now I'm going to have to teach you how to play marbles,” she decided in that very minute.

 

“And I guess I'll have to teach you to ride,” he grinned.

 

“It's not polite to tease that way, Joshua,” she chided him, but deep inside she hoped that he would. That he would sneak her into the stables he worked for and put her up on a saddle.

 

“It's getting late,” he noticed her fighting a yawn. “We should be going.”

 

“I suppose so,” she held her hands straight out and he rose, taking them in his own and provided the aid she needed to get to her feet. Staring straight into his eyes, she noticed the way his pupils dilated while focusing on her own, the way the corner of his lip quirked as though he were pleased about something, and feel of his strong hands in her own. With great regret she spoke in a barely audible whisper, “Goodnight, Josh.”

 

“Goodnight, Jen,” he tucked his hands into his pockets when he realized how long he had been holding hers without her complaint.

 

And though neither one of them asked the other, they both knew they'd be back again when the crickets took to song and the city went to sleep.

 

 


	2. Pain in the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my betas S (breadberriesandtoastbabies) and to L (fault-in-ourstars) for helping me to understand the world of horses. This particular chapter had been edited months ago and then I went and changed things up. So if there are any mistakes in this chapter I own them all.

**Betting on the Infield**

**By: Jamie Sommers**

****

**Betting on the Infield**

**Part Two: Pain in the Past**

 

 

For the third night in a row Josh and Jennifer found themselves on the infield. Tonight they were walking along the inside of the fence as Josh pointed out the various spots on the track he had taken to memory. “Depending on the time of day, not to mention the weather, this section can be tricky.” He pointed towards the sky. “If the sun’s shining and you glance upward, even for the briefest of seconds, it can blind you. Jockeys know better than to take their eyes off the track, but we’re all human and mistakes can be made.” He went on telling her about incidents he had seen where a jockey had made an error and cost not only himself, but others on the track, the race before they strolled towards the center of the grassy field and taken up their seats.

 

 

She had told him about the various pets she had growing up, and how she had named each and every farm cat, much to her mother's chagrin. “My favorite was a caramel colored tom named, Rusty. He was the best mouser around and constantly came up to the house leaving his kills at the front door like he was presenting us with his day’s work.” Jennifer let out a loud laugh at a memory, “One time he caught this giant mole, must’ve been about six inches long,” she twisted her head towards Josh, “not counting the tail, and dropped it right at my mother’s feet while she was throwing a luncheon for some of her friends in the garden.”

 

 

The sound of their joined laughter echoed through the still of darkness, floating on the night breeze.

 

 

“I never owned a pet, but I always wanted to,” he shared.

 

 

“Well, why not?” Pets, she had always assumed, were a part of growing up.

 

 

Giving his shoulder a hint of a shrug he spoke without thinking, “Couldn’t really afford the extra mouth to feed.” His confession had instantly put a damper on the mood and he quickly worked to regain the jovial spirit that accompanied the majority of their conversations. “The place I work for now though…they’ve got lots of farm cats and a couple of dogs too.” He failed to tell her how remarkable it felt to experience an animal’s unconditional love for fear of opening up a part of his life even he didn’t want to view.

 

 

The more he filled in little details of his life; Jen suspected that it was a rough one. And the more he found out about her upbringing he guessed that she had lived a comfortable life, quite possibly coming from one of the middle class families that owned a local shop. As they sat quietly each took the time to study the other. He wondered if she felt this odd connection they had formed over the past few nights, and she worried about the trouble they’d both be in if they were caught sitting so close to one another as though neither one of them had a care in the world about their stations in life.

 

 

“You look pretty serious over there,” if he didn’t look away from her he was certain things would get a hell of a lot more serious. “What’s on your mind?”

 

 

“I was just thinking about life’s stations,” she leaned back and grinned at his curious expression. “Don’t you ever wonder about it?” she looked off to the side. “I mean…who came up with these stupid rules we all have to live by?”

 

 

“I’m not sure,” plucking a blade of grass, Josh nibbled at the pointed end of the greenery. Would this be the moment she told him what she had been hiding? What he had already figured out? That she shouldn’t be out here with someone like him. “What rules are you talking about?”

 

 

“Why the rules of Victorian etiquette my dear man,” the feigned air of superiority in her tone made him grin.

 

 

“Can’t say that I have much experience with those.” Everyone knew the basics; stick with your own kind, but there was so much more to it than that. “Why don’t you give me an example?”

 

 

“Okay,” she thought about the millions of Victorian rules that had been driven into her over the years and picked the one that bothered her most of all. “Did you know that the poor have it much easier than the rich do when it comes to marriage?”

 

 

Josh let out a hefty sniff. “I seriously doubt that. The poor don’t have _anything_ easy.”

 

 

“Oh, but they do.” There were times in Jennifer’s life that she wished she hadn’t been born into wealth. “You see they are allowed to marry for love.”

 

 

“Don’t most people marry for love?” With his knees bent and his feet flat on the ground, Josh rested back on his elbows and felt the coolness of the grass chill his forearms through his blue plaid shirt. “I know there are some that have arranged marriages, but that’s a rarity now a days, isn’t it?”

 

 

“Hah!” Jennifer’s features grew animated as she began speaking with her hands accentuating each of her words. “You see, there are several different classes,” she began to tutor him. “For the sake of this conversation we’ll stick with three. Lower class,” she said under her breath for she didn’t like that terminology and didn’t want him to assume she thought that of him. “Middle class,” she went on when he listened quietly with no signs of insult. “And Upper class. I would include working class, but they sort of bleed into all stations. I mean, even the rich work. Now,” she began her tutelage, “if you’re in the lower class you are free to marry whomever you choose and no one thinks twice about it. If you’re in the middle then it can go either way, though there are many that try to arrange marriages.”

 

 

“I never really understood that,” he spoke his thoughts out loud. “Why on earth does a parent feel they need to arrange a marriage for their child?”

 

 

“When you’re in the middle it’s usually between married couples that are friends and share the same Christian principles. They fear their children may not choose well –" she leaned closer to him, “God forbid they choose someone from a lower station in life, and they make the choice for them. Not for land or money, but to ensure that they’ll be able to hold their heads up in public.”

 

 

“That’s silly.”

 

 

“Oh, but wait. We haven’t even gotten to the truly ridiculous part yet.” Sticking her feet out in front of her she crossed her ankles one over the other and rested her hands against the cool earth. “Now we’re getting to the rich,” she said with an elevated brow. “That’s where things get complex. You see, very few rich can marry for love. The men have it easier than women in this instance as they can court several of the women their parents have chosen for them, but the women are pretty much stuck with whomever her parents feel will provide her with a secure future.” Jennifer went on to explain how men could find their betrothed on their own, and even marry beneath them as long as it was within reason. “There’s no guarantee that his wife will be accepted into her new station, more often than not she is, unless the man has married reeeeeally beneath him.” This disgusted Jennifer to no end and the look on her face said as much. “For example, there’s nothing wrong with an heir to a fortune marrying someone like a teacher, but if he were to marry someone like a maid…” she sniffed out her disgust and smirked, “then both the man and woman would be shunned as would the rest of the family if they tolerated such behavior.” Jennifer continued without pause, “A woman that marries beneath her, regardless of how noble the man’s profession, will most likely be snubbed right along with her new spouse.”

 

 

“Good lord,” Josh sat upright crinkling his forehead. “This is awfully complex considering it’s just marriage we’re talking about.”

 

 

“That’s my point,” Jen’s palms flew outwards. “There are so many rules that society has set in place, it’s absolutely absurd!”

 

 

“Are there ever any exceptions?” For a split second he wondered how someone like himself would be welcomed into Jennifer’s world.

 

 

“There are actually, though it’s very rare.” Scouring her mind for an example Jennifer failed to find one. “Let’s say someone as elite as one of the Rockefellers married a member of their staff, well…no one would say a thing to someone as prestigious as that, but they would speak of the scandalous events behind their backs.”

 

 

“Damn,” for the first time in Josh’s life he was glad he didn’t have a pot to piss in. “Sort of glad I’m in that low, working class group. I can marry whoever the hell I want and no one can say a damn thing about it.”

 

 

“Unless you fall in love with someone rich,” Jennifer’s sparkling eyes landed on his and her unintentional insinuation hung uncomfortably between them.

 

 

“I seriously doubt any woman of means would be interested in someone like me,” he tore his gaze away from hers as the tension lingering between them swelled. In the back of his mind he could hear himself asking what he was doing there. Why on earth would he risk being caught with a woman as far out of reach as the moon was from the sea? “So uh…you think you’ll marry for love or duty?”

 

 

“I’d like to think I’d marry for love,” her once exuberant voice was now hushed and morose. “At least I hope I do.”

 

 

“Yeah,” turning towards her their quick glances locked into a drawn out, caressing gaze. “I hope you do too, Jennifer.”

 

 

After several long minutes of uncomfortable silence Jennifer’s lashes batted and her eyes drifted to the side. “So…”

 

 

“So?”

 

 

The area surrounding them provided her with the new topic she craved. “I expect Churchill Downs will become congested fairly soon. What, with all the horses…owners…” They’d soon be losing their little hideaway that was far from hidden.

 

 

“Maybe you can stop by during the day sometime and I can introduce you to my boss’s horse?” It was an unrealistic request, but he asked just the same.

 

 

“Maybe I will.” The probability was low, but the desire consumed her.

 

 

“Speaking of horses…uh…hope you don't mind if I call it an early night,” Jen was rapidly becoming enamored with the hints of shyness Josh expressed when speaking. “I didn't get too much sleep last night and I have to be up at 3:30.”

 

 

“Of course I don't mind.” She didn't want to say goodnight, but she understood that he had a job to do. “Thank you,” she placed her hands in his at his nightly offer to help her to her feet.

 

 

“My pleasure.” It truly was as it was the only time while in her presence he could feel her soft as chamois hands within his tough, calloused ones.

 

 

“Well…” she swallowed the awkward lump in her throat while walking alongside of him back to the edge of the track. As they stood a little too close to one another, next to the fence her mind traveled into wicked territory as she wished he’d reach out and clasp her hands within his own, perhaps place a friendly kiss upon her cheek, but she had no business thinking such things, and pushed them from her mind. “Goodnight, Josh.”

 

 

He was so tempted reach out and touch her, but there was no denying that she had been brought up to be a proper lady, and he was far from being considered a gentleman. “Goodnight, Jen.” He watched her walk across the track, kicking up dust in her wake and knew she'd be guest starring in his dreams that night, like she had since the first night he saw her.

 

 

Jen had begun to form a bit of a habit since meeting Josh. The moment she got home from one of their visits, she would flop lazily onto her cushy mattress and replay every word of their conversations in her mind. Each morning she had intended on waking early to accompany her father to the stables, but falling asleep with the rise of the sun, had put a damper on her plans.

 

 

Her mother made comment to her new sleep schedule, “Jinny, a woman of good breeding doesn't sleep until the crack of _noon_.”

 

 

“Forgive me,” Jennifer pressed a kiss against the top of her mother's head in passing. “I think I'm still on London time, mother.” It seemed like a reasonable argument considering there was a five hour time difference between the two cities. “I'm certain I'll grow accustomed to being back home soon enough.” The truth was, even after visiting London for three months, Jen's internal clock had remained on Kentucky time.

 

 

“See that you do, dear,” her mother scolded lightly. “See that you do.” What had seemed like an innocent reprimand on her mother’s part turned out to be the pattern for Jen's day. The arguments she had with her mother had grown out of control, and only stopped when the woman had a coughing fit so severe Jen's maid, Mrs. Paddington, had to take her mother to bed.

 

 

That night when Jen met up with Josh she plopped down on the grass, crossed her legs, dug her elbows into her knees and rested her chin in the butt of her hand. “My mother is getting on my last nerve.”

 

 

“Why's that?” Josh took notice of her posture and held in his chuckle when he realized she had forgone the corset she detested so much.

 

 

“Because every single day since I've been back all I've heard about is what a proper lady should be doing.” Jen stuck her tongue out making a, “blech,” sound. “We had a terrible fight today,” Jen sighed. “All I want to do is learn to ride. That's it. I'm not asking to be in the damn Derby or...or...”

 

 

“Go without a corset.” He couldn't help but to tease her.

 

 

Jen glared at him then joined in on his laughter. “Don't you know it's not proper to make such comments to a lady?”

 

 

“When I see one I'll remember that,” he ducked when she threw a punch at his arm. “Sorry. Sorry,” he spoke on the end of his chuckle.

 

 

“Damn right you're sorry.” She could no longer dwell on the arguments she had been having with her mother since she returned from London or her mother's constant attempt to end the fight by having some sort of coughing spell or claiming she didn’t feel well and needed to lie down. The woman had guilting someone into submission down to a science. Jen looked to the sky and reveled in the sight before her. “Do you know you can barely see any stars in London?”

 

 

“Never been,” Josh crossed his legs and picked a blade of grass and sticking it into his mouth.

 

 

“You do that every night,” Jen had noticed more and more of his habits lately. This one in particular haunted her dreams. The square of his hands as he fiddled with the blade of grass between his teeth had her wondering what it would feel like if they played upon her skin that way. “You pull a piece of grass and chomp on it like a bit.”

 

 

“I normally use straw, but there's none out here.” He discarded the piece of grass. “I won't do it if it bothers you.”

 

 

She glanced over at him and pictured him with a piece of wheat colored straw clamped between his teeth, and was tempted to tell him to run to the stables and grab some so she could get a clearer picture. “I don't mind. I just find it interesting, that's all.”

 

 

Josh nibbled on a new blade of grass, the sweet flavor of it playing at the tip of his tongue and encouraged her to go on, “So you can't see many stars in London, huh?”

 

 

“Nope. I think it has to do with how crowded it is...the smoke stacks maybe.” She thought of the quiet nights she stood on a balcony and longed to see the millions of stars that sparkled in the Kentucky sky. “There are so many people there and...God,” she rolled her eyes. “I swear to you the entire city stops dead in its tracks during tea time.” She turned to face him. “Do people really need to gather around a table, drinking tea and eating crumpets?”

 

 

“What's a crumpet?” He asked.

 

 

“Hell if I know,” she smirked. “I ate them for months and I still can't tell you what a crumpet is.”

 

 

“That sounds...memorable,” he grinned.

 

 

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I know people love it there, but why would anyone choose to live someplace like that when you've got a place like this as an option?” It had been the bane of her existence as of late, but she couldn't tell him that. If she had told him the truth, she was certain their evening get togethers would come to an end. “They do love their horses though. The men out there live to play polo and go on these absolutely absurd,” her features grew animated, “fox hunts. Now, I ask you, what the hell did that tiny fox do to those men that they have to go out and hunt it down?”

 

 

“I have no idea,” Josh sat back and listened to her tell tales of her travels. “How long were you gone?”

 

 

“Three months.” Her head hung back as she sighed into the night. “Three loooong, boring months.”

 

 

“If you hated it so much, then why go?” He lay back against the bed of grass using the arm behind his head to pillow it from the earth. “Why not stay here?”

 

 

“My mother,” Jen rested herself against the grass, taking up a similar position to his and clasped her hands together over her stomach. “She insisted that I see it before...” she stopped herself from revealing too much. “Please don’t get me wrong. My mother is a good woman. She really is, but...” Jen's eyes rolled to the top of her head. “The woman can turn a square of bread and a slice of cucumber into a pretentious meal.” She lulled her head in the direction of Josh's laughter. “Sure, laugh at me, but you have no idea what it's like to be brought up to, 'do the right thing,' and 'be a proper lady.'” She groaned. “I swear to you, my brothers have it so much easier than I do.”

 

 

“You have brothers?”

 

 

“Yes. Two of them. One has been married for a few years and has a beautiful little boy. The other married last autumn.” She sat upright and asked venomously, “And that's another thing. Why is it so damn important for a woman to get married? What if we don't want to marry? What if we want to be old maids and spend our lives alone or with a house full of cats?”

 

 

Automatically Josh reached out and rubbed a comforting hand along her lower back. “I say, if you want to grow old surrounded by nothing but cats, then you should do it. That's your right.”

 

 

Jen's spine stiffened at the feel of his hand gliding up and down. Not out of fear, or concern, but from the jolt of electricity shooting from upwards from the spot his hand rested. “I...uh...” she stammered, struggling to recall what they had been talking about. “Josh?” Her curious gaze darted over her shoulder and he shot straight up yanking his hand away from her as though her flesh had scalded his skin.

 

 

“I'm sorry. I'm...geez...I'm sorry, Jen. I shouldn't have...” He had no idea where his familiarity with her had come from, and he damned himself for not keeping his senses on full alert.

 

 

“Don't be,” she said softly. “I don't mind if you touch me.”

 

 

Josh shook his head slowly from side to side. “You...you're not that kind of...I mean...we shouldn't...” he hopped to his feet. “It's getting late,” he said without looking at his watch. “You should go.”

 

 

“I don't want to go,” she got to her feet with ease now that she had left her corset at home and took a few tentative steps towards him. “It was only my back, Josh.”

 

 

“Still,” he pulled his woolen cap from his head and scratched nervously behind his ear. “I should know better than to take such liberties with a lady like you.” He lifted his worried gaze to hers. “Gosh, Jen, I hope you can forgive me.”

 

 

She stared at him with his hat in his hand, looking as though he had just committed the ultimate sin and felt herself being tugged to him. “You're a goof,” she said through a soft giggle and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him to her. “I'll see you tomorrow,” she placed a peck against his cheek before she changed her mind and dashed quickly away.

 

Josh stood statuesque for several minutes trying to calm the drumming of his pulse. The spot Jennifer kissed on his cheek burned beneath his quizzical touch. He had spent every night since meeting her pining over her...fantasizing about giving her the world on a silver platter, but that’s all it would ever be. A fantasy.

 

The few hours of sleep he did get each night, he dreamed of her laughter, her bright eyes, the way her hand felt within his, but that night when he took to sleep he had a new dream. He saw her standing in the middle of a warm kitchen with her hands kneading at a lump of dough. She had a dishtowel slung over her shoulder and a loving smile in her eyes. His heart raced at the sight of the domesticated scene...at the home he had always longed for. As Josh strode purposely towards her, his arms extended, flames shot up from around her feet and engulfed her. Screaming out to her that he would save her, he ran across the kitchen as fast as his feet would take him, but the distance between them grew further apart. Within seconds she had disappeared into a black cloud of smoke and the only thing left of her was the sound of her voice calling out to him...begging him to save her. Josh jolted upright in bed, drenched in a cold sweat, and knew without a doubt what his dream had meant and what he had to do.

 

Scanning her surroundings for any sight of Josh, Jen stood at the edge of the track and smiled broadly when she noticed him pacing back and forth in the center of the infield. “I almost didn't see you out here,” she spoke softly, then held her breath in anticipation, hoping that he would kiss her hello.

 

“I'm glad you're here,” he said seriously. With his hat tucked into his pocket, Josh stood with his shoulders squared and said defiantly, “I think this is the last time we should meet.”

 

“What?” Jen reached for him, but he pulled away.

 

“Jennifer, you and I...we're from different worlds. You...” he glanced at the dress she was wearing; it was nothing like the tweed suit she had on each night. This dress fit each of her curves with tailored precision. A dark green bodice hugged her trim waist and full bosom. The sleeves ballooned at the shoulders and tapered at her wrists. The neck formed a high collar in the back, but the front of her chest was exposed, showing a good _two inches_ of her naked flesh below the hollow of her throat. He could make out the round of a beauty mark peeking out of her neckline that matched those on her chin and throat. He had specifically avoided staring at those tiny little marks these past few nights for fear that the desire to place a kiss against them would be too great. “Damn,” he groaned. “Look at you,” he motioned to her attire. “You're so beaut...” he stopped himself from saying what he truly wanted and got back on track. “Jennifer,” he took a deep breath in through his nose and blew it slowly out between pursed lips, working up the courage to do what he must, “I have enjoyed spending time with you, but I'm afraid we can no longer see one another.”

 

Jen lifted her fingers to her lips, stifling the sound threatening to emit from her throat and turned away from him.

 

“Geez, Jen. I'm sorry,” he hated hurting her, “but you have to understand how inappropriate this is. Look at you,” he dashed around to the front of her having to take special care to make sure he didn’t step on her full skirt and finished up with, “and look at me,” he gestured to the tight blue chambray pants, worn brown boots, plaid shirt and flat woolen cap.

 

“I don't care about that, Josh.” A mixture of heartache and confusion swept over her. She had barely known him...spent four nights in his presence, but in those four nights she had never felt so free to be who she truly was. “Josh, I don't give a damn about our differences.”

 

“But I do, Jen. Society does,” he was so tempted to gather her in his arms and tell her that everything would be all right. That they could figure out a way to remain friends, but that nagging voice of reason in the back of his head refused to shut up.

 

“And if I don't care about the opinion of strangers?”

 

He didn't give a damn about strangers either, but it was more than that. “It's not just how society would perceive us, Jennifer and you know it.”

 

“Oh, who gives a shit about my mother?” She declared.

 

“You don't know what you're saying.” He turned his back to her and worried his fingers into the scar on the palm of his hand, lowering his voice down to just above a whisper, “I'm not good for you, Jen.”

 

“Why don't you let me be the judge of that?” She rested her hand gingerly between his shoulder blades and felt him tug away from her touch. “Turn around, Josh,” she gently pleaded. “Look at me.”

 

When his troubled eyes met her tear filled ones, he knew he'd have to give her a good reason as to why he suddenly took issue with what they were doing there each night. “Jen, I've done things in my life that you'd never be able to forgive me for. That I don't forgive myself for.”

 

“I find it difficult to believe that you could ever...”

 

“You have no idea!” Dragging his fingers roughly across his scalp he thought of the petty larceny he had committed, the handouts he had never been too proud to accept, and the people he hurt over the years. “No clue whatsoever!”

 

“Josh, it's not like you murdered someone so give me one...” her breath caught in her throat like a hairball when his guilt ridden expression shot to hers. “Josh?” He stared off into space and shook his head over and over again. “Josh, talk to me,” she shook him by the shoulders, terrified of what he had expressed with a mere look. “Tell me! Please!”

 

“My parents and little brother were killed in a house fire when I was nine.” How his voice remained steady was a mystery to him.

 

“Oh, Josh,” Jen reached for his hand and held it against her chest with all thoughts of propriety pushed aside. “I'm so sorry.”

 

“Don't be. It's not like it was your fault.” But it was some _one's_ fault. He cleared his throat, staring at their joined hands resting against the pounding of her heart. The contrast in color made him think of the way she had described the rising sun. Even if he had finished school he would never have her ability to sketch with words how picturesque the calloused, bronze skin of his hands looked against her porcelain flesh. He had to make her see that they were as different as water from earth and there was only one way he could think to do it.

 

For the first time in Josh Hutcherson's life he _willingly_ went back to the night his life changed. “My father was an abusive drunk. He wasn't my real father. My real father worked for the railroad, but he was shot during a heist when I was little.” Jen's tiny gasp failed to register with Josh as he forbade himself from allowing any form of emotion in so as to get through the next few minutes. “I can remember seeing my mother smile at my real dad...remember them stealing kisses while she was in the kitchen...the feel of his fingers ruffling my hair, but that's about it.” He kept his focus on their joined hands and continued on. “My mother remarried when I was seven. My brother and I liked the man well enough, but after a while he started drinking and the home I had spent seven years in – the home my father built, had to be sold. We went from one house to another, each one worse than the last, until we finally wound up in a three room...shack.” Josh could see it in his head. “There was a living area that doubled as the kitchen, a bedroom for my parents, and one for me and my little brother no bigger than a closet.” A chill shot through him causing him to shudder. “At night my little brother Connor and I would huddle together under the covers trying to keep warm from the drafts that blew through our room. There was a wood stove in the living area that kept the chill from room when it was lit, but my father didn't want us wasting the wood on something as trivial as heat when he wasn't home. We could use it to prepare the two meals a day my mother was able to scrounge up, but no more than that.” Josh could see the small house they had spent almost six months in. The wooden slats that were a poor excuse for walls. The patches of dirt on the floor where the old linoleum had worn through. He looked down upon his old living quarters like he was floating up above...like he was nothing more than an onlooker instead of a participant in the deadly outcome of this story. “My parents had a heating stove in their room. It was small, but my father...” Josh sniffed out a disgusted huff at the use of the term, ‘father.’ “He always had enough wood to keep _his_ room warm. My mother would fight with him about it. Tell him that she needed to keep the other stove lit so my brother and I wouldn't freeze to death.” Josh lifted his eyes away from their joined hands and focused on the dark sky dusted with flecks of white. “It got so cold in the winter, but that man didn't want to hear it.”

 

Jen hung on his every word. Tried to imagine a life in which a father, even a stepfather, cared so little for a child that he'd let them freeze or go hungry. It was such a far cry from the pampered life she had led.

 

“Then one night, Connor and I couldn't take it anymore.” he dropped his hands to his sides needing to separate the here and now from his past. “Have you ever been so cold that it felt like you had ice water running through your veins?” His questions weren't meant for anyone at all. “So cold that you could feel it in the marrow of your bones?” Jen gave her head a slow shake, but Josh was in another world and failed to notice her response. “Connor and I...we were shivering so much our teeth were chattering...our lips were blue.” Josh could see the black wood stove in the back of his mind. “I had watched my mom every morning. I saw what she did to light the stove.” The sickening weight of despair hung over his neck like a guillotine threatening to fall. “There's nothing to it. Just throw in some kindling, Josh,” he had been transported back in time and was suddenly a frightened child in search of warmth. “Put a log inside...make sure you get the biggest one you can find, then strike the match.” His nails dug into the palms of his hands as he squeezed his fists tighter and tighter. “I forgot to close the lid.” His eyes glazed over as the sounds of his brother's screams played in his head. “One spark,” he whispered hoarsely. “ _One. Spark.”_ He saw the orange glow of the ember fly from the stove with a snap of the wood. “It landed on my brother's pajamas. I ran for the basin, but it was dry, so I just started swatting at the fire with a dishrag, but all that did was cause the flames to get higher.”

 

The constriction of Jen's corset was nothing compared to the clenching Josh's tale caused around her heart. “You didn't know,” she pulled his restless hands to hers desperate to comfort him. “You were just a chil...”

 

“My mother and father raced into the kitchen,” he continued, unaware of anything she had said. “They must have heard our screaming. My mom was shrieking at the top of her lungs and my fath...” Josh's voice grew thick with the tightening of his throat. “He ran back to his bedroom and grabbed a glass. I thought for sure that he'd throw the water on Connor and save him, but he was so...damn...drunk he didn't realize that the glass was full of booze not water.”

 

“Oh my God,” Jen's fingers flew to her mouth, stifling the gasp.

 

“Know what happens when you add alcohol to a fire?” Josh stared blankly into the night and answered his own question without skipping a beat. “It causes the flames to get bigger.” In the dark crevices of his mind he could see the entire scenario playing out like a Shakespearean tragedy. “My mom fell to her knees and began rolling Connor around on the ground, but it was too late. Even if he had survived the flames, it would have only been temporarily. My father tried to pull her away, but then he just...” Every muscle in Josh's body froze. “He stopped. He stood over them...just staring while I screamed, 'Help them!' And then it was like a light went off in his head or something.” Looking back on it now, Josh could understand why the man did what he did. Why he chose to accept death. It was so much easier than life. “He grabbed me around my arms and fell to the floor,” Josh could feel the pressure of a man's strong grip holding him in place. “I kept struggling to get away from him, but it was useless. I could hear my mother's shrieks of pain, the fire had engulfed the arms of her nightgown,” Josh gulped. “My brother was dead, my mother was burning right in front of my eyes, and my father started growling at me with all the hatred he had in his black heart, 'See what you did? You killed your brother, now I'm gonna kill you!'”

 

Jen's breath caught in her chest as she moved closer to Josh and ran her hands up and down his shivering arms.

 

“My mom...I could see it in her eyes, she was dying, but she wasn't about to let that man take me with them. She lunged for him...pushed him off of me, and I jumped away from him, but not before the fire caught the hem of my shirt.” He began to press at the spot on his torso where the flames licked and the scar remained. “The last thing I heard was my mother screaming for me to run. So I did. I ran out of the house and slipped on a patch of ice, falling face first into a snowbank.” Jen's face was drenched with tears, but Josh's was completely dry and devoid of emotion. He had disconnected himself from the events, reciting each detail as though he had been reading from a book, but the story was through now and the only thing that remained was the reality of what he had done. Josh finally looked upon Jennifer and sucked in a hard breath. “So you see? I did murder someone. Two people actually.”

 

“No, Josh,” Jen shook her head frantically and took his face in her hands. “No. It was an accident. You didn't murder anyone.”

 

The night his neighbors had shown up and pulled him from the snowbank, rushing him to get medical treatment, Josh cried wishing he could run back into the house and go with his mother and brother to heaven. He could hear the chattering of female gossip, “That man was a no good drunk. Doesn't surprise me that he set his house on fire,” never once admitting the truth to anyone. While lying on the bed, in the doctor's office, covered with crisp, white linens, the authorities had stopped by and asked Josh if he knew what had happened, but he was too grief stricken to speak. All he could do was sob his sorrows behind the bend of his much too thin arm. In time the tears stopped flowing, the burns on his hands and torso healed, and he was made a ward of the state.

 

The orphanage was unlike anything Josh had ever experienced. Most of the adults weren't abusive, but the children were. Josh learned to fight at an early age, but more than that, he learned how to build a wall around his sorrow. Shedding tears showed weakness, and weakness made you a target.

 

It had been twelve years since Josh cried. Twelve years since he allowed his heartache in, and now that he had opened his Pandora's Box of emotional turmoil, there was no turning back. He sucked in breath after breath only to have them stick in the closure of his throat. His body grew tight as the first spasm took hold of every muscle in his body. His forehead creased, his cheeks and eyes were bright red, and a line of mucus ran down from his nostrils creating a glistening stream across his parted lips.

 

Jen wrapped her arms around his upper body, gently rocking him back and forth. Countless words of comfort came to mind, but something inside of her knew she needed to hold her tongue, that he needed to purge the self-hatred from his system in order to grieve for the loss of his loved ones instead of blaming himself for their untimely death.

 

The memory of his brother's shrieks pierced Josh's eardrums. His hands shot up, covering the sides of his head, causing Jen to stumble backwards, almost falling to the ground. He hadn't meant to push her away, but he had to silence it...to stop the agonizing cries of his brother from resonating in his ears. Years of guilt traveled from the depth of his being erupting in an unruly wail, drowning out the sounds of his little brother's torment, replacing it with his own. Josh reached out in need of something stable to hold onto, finding the security of Jennifer's arms at the ready. Burying his face in her neck, he allowed his past to meld into the present. He sobbed for the death of his family, the abusive hands of his stepfather that had only held him once, at that in the midst of an inferno. He cried for those same hands that had come down on him many times over claiming it was for Josh's “own good.” His thunderous weeping saturated the collar of Jennifer's dress and dripped down the front of her bodice as he wept for the childhood that had gone up in a cloud of smoke. His tears continued to flow until the air was no longer too thick to breathe...his chest was no longer heaving...his body stopped quaking, and he became aware of his surroundings and the arms of the woman holding him.

 

The gentle breath of Jen's whisper tickled against his ear, “You poor darling.” One of her hands held his head firmly in place as the other stroked a lovingly up and down his spine. “Poor...poor darling.”

 

Josh yanked himself from her grasp and took a step backwards. He had expected her to run...to be disgusted by his careless actions that had murdered two people, he never blamed himself for his stepfather's death. The man had brought that on himself, but his mother and brother... “Do you...” his voice still held a tremble, “see now...why this ha...has to end?”

 

“No,” with each step she took towards him he took one back.

 

“It has to, Jen.” He pulled a thin, white cotton handkerchief from his back pocket and blew his still running nose.

 

“Josh, that fire was an accident,” if only she could make him see that. “You were only nine years old.”

 

“But that's not all of it, Jen.” The rest of his childhood, or lack thereof, had been an exercise in survival. “I've done other things...terrible things.”

 

“We've all done terrible things in our lives, Josh. It's the lessons we take away from them that matter.” He continued to ease away from her and she feared that if she made a sudden move towards him he’d race away leaving her alone, heartbroken and forlorn.

 

“You should cut all ties with me, Jen,” he warned. “Run as fast and far away from me as you can.”

 

She had had enough of his pushing her away. Sweeping her full skirt to the side, she dropped down onto the grass, her dress billowing out like a collapsed tent around her, and attempted a new approach. “Can I assume you've placed a wager in your day?”

 

Josh swiped the damp handkerchief beneath his nose one last time and tucked it into his pocket, uncertain where her line of questioning would lead, but answering just the same. “Yes.”

 

“And we can both agree that the majority of wagers are placed on what happens on that track?” She pointed at it.

 

“Yes,” he narrowed his eyes curiously.

 

“Then I propose a new area to wager upon,” She ran the flat of her hands across her lap, spreading out the wrinkles of her skirt. “I'd like to propose that we bet on the infield.”

 

How they had gone from his warning her to leave to the topic of gambling left him a touch confused. “Nothing worth betting on happens on the infield, Jen.”

 

“That's where you're wrong.” She tugged nervously at the bits of black lace sticking out of her dark green sleeve and presented him with her offer. “I shall bet you that nothing you say...nothing you confess to me about your past will change the way I feel for you.”

 

Josh swallowed hard at her admitting she had feelings for him, but there was no denying she'd forget all about them when she heard of his past. “You'll lose, Jen.”

 

“Then you'll get what you want, won't you?” Her defiant expression met his. “If something you say causes me to feel any ill will towards you then I'll take my leave and never look back.”

 

“Deal!” He said too eagerly.

 

“I'm not done yet.” This was where things could get tricky. “However, if what you tell me only enhances my feelings for you, than you must swear to never try to push me away from you again.”

 

Josh was certain that he could shock her with tales from his unruly past and was about to agree to the terms of the bet until she threw a wrench into the mix.

 

“ _And_ you'll agree to stay here with me tonight... _all_ night and watch the sunrise with me.” Jen waited patiently as he paced back and forth, wearing a path into the grass, deciding whether or not he'd agree to the stakes. The edge of her mouth bowed slightly upward accentuating the fearless glint in her eye and the challenge in her question, “What do you say, J...J...Joshua?” There was a feigned air of superiority to her voice as she stuck her hand out for him to shake. “Is it a deal?”

 

He had literally lived in the gutter. Taken from those that couldn't afford it, and sold his very soul for a piece of bread. No, he wouldn't have to try very hard at all to win this little bet she insisted upon. Josh clamped his hand around Jennifer's and said through a clenched jaw, “Deal.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr I'm jamiesommers23

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr. I'm jamiesommers23. If you're a joshifer fan and love to read fanfiction, follow joshiferrecs on tumblr for hundreds of stories by various authors. To read all the vintage stories, follow the vintagejoshiferseries on tumblr.
> 
> Thanks for reading y'all. ~J


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